


Snack Bar

by malle



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bartender Karl, Clubbing, Crack Treated Seriously, DJ Quackity, Food Porn, George loves food, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, bad boy dream, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malle/pseuds/malle
Summary: George plans to hook up at the nightclub with a certain blonde man.Unfortunately, the snack bar was way too fucking delicious.Or, everything goes wrong and Dream gets cockblocked by spring rolls.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 114





	Snack Bar

George’s vision swam, bombarded by the neon cascading lights upon entering the nightclub. The dancefloor was bustling with people, all jumping to the music. The eerie synchronization of such a large crowd made them look hypnotized by the DJ wearing a beanie. He reigned the floor, perched on the elevated floor at the back of the club. The heavy bass and co-ordinated footfall from the mob made the floor and walls shake in a consistent tempo. His heartbeat was in sync- no, _motored_ by each beat.

He almost lost his footing from all the shaking, as well as being unused to the new shoes he bought specifically for this occasion. It was his first time going to a nightclub, and he intended to look and feel as hot and debauched as possible. He wore high-heeled, black ankle boots, and black skinny jeans that sculpted his ass rather nicely. He was sporting a vibrant supposedly red tee, which allegedly was his best color according to his friends- he wouldn’t know, since he was colorblind. His eyelashes were curled, smeared with mascara that made his already large eyes pop out even more. He looked around the dancefloor, pursing his lips, surprised by how soft they were until he forgot that he swiped a pink fruity lip gloss before he entered.

Not deemed ready and/or drunk enough to join the entranced crowd, he headed to the bar, momentarily stopping when he felt eyes on him. He angled his head around to see a very tall man leaning against the wall. He was the one of the very few who hadn’t joined the crowd, opting out of dancing and apparently drinking, seeing how he didn’t at least sluggishly sway to the music. He had dirty blonde hair, black jeans, and a low v-neck black tee. The silver chain necklace he wore with a tag dangling on the end reflected the flashing lights, blinding George a little.

The man raked his eyes over George, slow and deliberately, and smirked when they made eye-contact. George’s heart was beating rapidly, falling out of sync with the music, outpacing it. His face and neck were burning up, his hands clammy and fidgeting. He felt his brain suddenly seize up and crash, seeing _Error 404_ signs all over. Unable to handle the attention, he tore away his gaze from the man’s eyes, who held his own hostage and willed his shaky legs to move towards the bar. He almost backtracked, as he was seemingly already drunk on the man’s attention on him. Sensing that was ridiculous, he pushed forward.

There were only a few other people seated on the stools, and he was greeted by a bartender quickly. George had no idea what to order, deeming that requesting beer was like ordering Mcdonald's in Japan. _God, he felt so out of place._

“What should I get if I want to be drunk, but not completely wasted?” he yelled to the bartender, wincing right after, feeling sorry that he yelled at a person in the service industry. But as expected, the blaring music drowned his yelling.

The man barked out laughter, seeing George’s apologetic face.

“Is it your first time?” George nodded, abashed by how apparent it must’ve been, but the bartender gave a comforting nod, eyes kind. “Okay, well if you want something sweet, I recommend a pina colada. You did eat something before coming, right?”

George did not eat anything before entering the nightclub. Whoops.

The bartender sighed and gave him a menu, which had a surprisingly extensive list of appetizers. “Well, lucky for you, we’re a snack bar too. Buy one unless you want to be puking in the bathroom with the rest of ‘em”.

-/-

George suddenly felt distressed, realizing his plan was not going as smoothly as expected. He was supposed to finish his drink and then head to the dancefloor, hopefully with the blonde man joining him. But here he was, waiting for a plate of spring rolls for the last seven minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the man leaning against the same exact spot.

“Here ya go. Sorry for the wait,” The bartender, who George noted to have brown shaggy hair and blue eyes due to all the impatient glances he gave him, slid the plate towards George, steam flowing from the crispy spring rolls. They smelled absolutely divine.

George picked one up and took a bite.

Holy fucking shit.

“ _Holy fucking shit_ ” George murmured in awe. They were so crispy, yet soft enough to chew. The vegetables inside were so juicy and flavourful, leaving George salivating for more.

“They’re fucking good, right?!” The bartender hollered, fist-pumping the air. George was devouring the rolls, practically moaning with each bite. He saw the bartender’s nametag out of the corner of his eye while he took a breather, waiting for them to cool down as his poor tongue was already abused from the piping heat. It was a sin not to compliment his cooking skills.

“Karl- that’s your name, right? _Karl,_ from the bottom of my heart, I want you to know that these are the _best damn spring rolls_ I’ve ever eaten” George said, mustering all the sincerity he managed. To anyone else, they’d think it was a drunk man’s rambling, but Karl knew he didn’t have a drop of alcohol in him yet, making him beam at the genuineness. The bartender seemed giddy, leaping up in the air- oddly in sync with the dancers- from the praise.

“Dude, that means _so_ much, you have no idea. Uhh, you mind telling my boss that?”

“As long as you get me two more orders!” George hollered, to which the man leaped again, beaming like a mad man.

-/-

This time, only a measly three minutes passed, since Karl had made a large batch for George’s first orders, and all George had to do was wait until he tended to the other club patrons.

George was halfway through his spring rolls until he noticed the snack menu he pushed to the side.

 _Popcorn chicken, beer-battered onion rings, crab croquettes, Takoyaki_ \- George had to slam the menu down for the sake of his wallet because _everything he just saw he was going to fucking order._

-/-

Time was no longer defined by minutes, but instead by the number of cleared plates George consumed. He was the only one seated with plates full of snacks and no alcoholic drink in sight. If there was anybody sending him appreciative glances, they definitely backed down when they saw he was already occupied, eye fucking the food in front of him. He hadn’t forgotten about the seduction plan, getting the attention of the blonde _somehow_ , but he wasn’t expecting a curveball in the form of cheesy taquitos. Technically, it was _responsible_ of him to make sure his stomach was sated before drinking. He looked around and saw that he was the only one left at the bar. How was that even possible? Did the alcohol just destroy everyone's taste buds and they could not appreciate the fine dining Karl served? Screw the dancefloor. The real party was with the food.

“Hey George, the blonde guy over there ordered this for you. Lucky you, huh? Hot and interested” Karl pointed to the guy and slid over a pina colada- _well will you look at that_ \- over to him and George finally looked up from his food and trailed to where Karl gestured. It was the blonde man, who was once glued to his spot near the entrance had now moved much closer to the snack bar. George's jaw dropped.

Oh shit.

George hurriedly pulled out his phone and looked at the time. 20 minutes had passed since he was seated at the bar.

George skyrocketed up from the seat, apparently concerning Karl a bit- _George came to the conclusion that Karl was the best bartender. He was concerned for his mental well-being and was an incredible cook_ – and he waved both his arms like a mad man, followed by a time-out pose to the blonde man.

The man was nonchalantly looking at his phone, until he darted his head upwards, wide eyes full of concern as he scurried towards him.

“George? Are you okay? What’s wrong?“ the man’s eyebrows furrowed, a slight frown on his face. His eyes darted all over George and his surroundings, grabbing onto his shoulders with both hands and closely inspected his face for any signs of distress. He looked adorable, fretting over him like a mother hen. George did not notice the man panicking even more from the lack of response, too busy being amused. It was only fueled by Karl being utterly confused and deciding if he should call security because a total stranger was putting his hands on George so suddenly.

“Georgie? Do you wa-“ he was quieted by George’s rather greasy finger firmly pressed against his lips.

“Shush. Come and try this” George shoved a piece of Takoyaki into his mouth.

“Mmpf- Oh shit that’s good. But uh, what happened to me coming over and dancing with you?” _And then making out with you on the dancefloor, then in the alleyway, and then fucking you silly in a hotel room_ George heard in subtext.

“The scenario’s off Dream. We’re eating dinner here now.” George said with an air of finality, pulling Dream down onto the stool next to him, still looking a little puzzled, and a bit disappointed.

Which was very ironic, since Dream was reluctant against roleplaying two strangers hooking up at a club, doing all filthy things to each other in and out of the club. Maybe his nightclub appearance was hotter than expected. George drank his pina colada and mentally cataloged the observation away.

Meanwhile, Karl just darted his head back and forth towards them, obviously lost at whatever the fuck was going on.

“Uhh, so are we going to finish eating and then continue with the plan?” Dream still seemed to be holding on to the fantasy of tongue fucking George on the dancefloor. He would’ve felt pity for the man if he wasn’t feeling so good from all the dopamine coming from the food.

“Dream, if I join the dance floor, I will most definitely puke on the floor and maybe on some people too. Then word gets out that some dude spilled his guts on the floor and the cleaning crew will come. _Then_ they’ll see bits of taquitos in my vomit. They’ll think the taquitos made me puke! What if the manager finds out and fires poor Karl?! Karl is the _best goddamn thing_ that has ever happened this night!” George rambled on, lifting his glass to Karl as if he was making a really passionate toast at Karl’s wedding. Except he wasn’t one of the best men but that weird uncle who was obviously drunk, which made all the other patrons – in this case, Dream and Karl – stare uncomfortably at him. Which they did. But that was beside the point. The point was that Karl was great.

He should really stop drinking the pina colada. Why did such a girly drink have so much damn alcohol in it? The slim prospect of George indulging Dream and grinding him on the dancefloor had been squandered, absolutely confident he’d puke from the addition of alcohol.

Dream seemed to take a moment to buffer everything.

“Who the fuck is Karl?” He snarled. Of course, leave it to Dream and his jealousy streak to miss the point. George mentally facepalmed.

“Dream, meet Karl, the bartender slash Michelin star chef. Karl, meet Dream, my boyfriend” George sobered up for a second, gesturing at the bartender who raised his hand sheepishly at the mention of his name. Dream nodded abashedly when he got the gist of the situation.

“Babe, come eat some spring rolls with me now.”

-/-

Despite everything, George would consider the night a success. He made a new friend, said friend got a raise, and Dream was satisfied in an albeit different way he was expecting from tonight. After Dream stopped pouting and took a bite of his mini shrimp taco, he finally understood what kept George away from him. He never stood a chance.

One day, George will have his dirty sexy nightclub fantasy fulfilled, moaning for Dream.

But not today. The only thing he’ll be moaning for is the fan-fucking-tastic food.

**Author's Note:**

> George probably passed out when he got his bill.
> 
> Also, if I made it unclear, George and Dream were already boyfriends, but George has never been to a club and wanted to experience what a hookup there would be like. Obviously, everything goes wrong.


End file.
